


break it yourself

by Ultimatum



Series: break it yourself [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (bro abuses drugs no one else), Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, dave gets to escape his shitty living situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:10:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultimatum/pseuds/Ultimatum
Summary: Dave finds out that he has a brother.Together, they heal. (And fuck Bro's life up for good)





	break it yourself

**Author's Note:**

> the title is an album by andrew bird, which i listened to over and over and over again while i wrote this, lol. 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy!

You find out that you have a brother purely by accident. 

Well, a brother _other_ than your Bro, that is. Really, it’s not like Bro has ever been your brother in the first place, he’s just a dad who never wanted to parent, and being an older sibling seemed more bearable to him, you guess.

So it doesn’t surprise you that he knocked someone else up and never took responsibility for the kid. Sometimes you marvel at the fact that Bro kept _you_ , and you still question his choice to this day. 

You pass your Bro’s computer one day while he’s taking a shit and notice that his chat log with one of his weird friends is still up on the screen. Which is strange, because Bro usually never leaves his shit unlocked. Even though you know the password, you know not to touch his stuff even more.

So when he leaves things open like this, sometimes it’s a hint that he wants to see what you’ll do. But he’s in the bathroom, so you wonder if maybe he was just careless this time. Regardless, you find yourself inching closer to the screen to peek, just in case he left it open on purpose, and you feel your heart start to hammer.

TT: yeah, so my other kid somehow got my contact info.

The rest blurs as you try to consolidate what you’re reading. For something that took maybe all of 3 seconds to register, it sure isn’t sinking in, and time seems to stretch out as you try and fail and try again to make it _make_ sense.

_Bro has another kid?_

Your first instinct is to assume that it’s a joke or some sort of ploy to trip you up. Mind games. Mind games are kind of Bro’s whole gimmick, and you wouldn’t put it past him to pull something like this. A brother you’d never heard of before. Seems convenient.

But at the same time, he’s talking to one of his friends, and he’s never really mixed his friends up with what he pulls on you. For the most part, Bro keeps them distant. 

Even though you’re 20, you suspect that he still feels like he needs to keep what he does to you under wraps. So be it. It is kind of fucked up. 

Lost in your own inner debate about whether or not this is legit, you almost fail to hear the bathroom door open. You slip away faster than you think you’ve ever managed to move and try to look as inconspicuous as possible in the kitchen. 

When you’re absolutely sure that he won’t suspect anything, you make your way back into your room, where you promptly spiral again.

You don't think this is a joke, and even worse, you have a feeling that you weren’t supposed to read that.

It twists your stomach into knots. Leaves you queasy.

You wonder where this guy is, how old he is, what he’s like. But before you get your hopes up, you remind yourself to detach a bit, just in case. 

Don’t feel shit about this. 

Especially in case this guy doesn’t actually exist, or maybe worse, is just some carbon clone of Bro or something. Because then there would be two of them out in the world, and that sounds pretty unbearable to you. 

Bro doesn’t seem to think you know, or that you saw, and you don’t let it get to your head, just in case this was just an elaborate ruse. 

It’s still hard to not feel good about knowing something that Bro doesn't _know_ you know, though. 

You wish Bro had said his name when he was talking about him, because then you could’ve snooped online. But as things stand, there just isn’t enough data. It really doesn’t stop you from feeling like you have a trump card in this apartment, as stupid as that seems. 

Finally. Only took you two decades.

Life goes on normally, or as normally as a Strider’s life can ever hope to be under the constant threat of abuse. Bro still insists on strifes and treats you more like a prisoner than an adult, but it’s as manageable as it's always been.

God. At least you’re past your hero-worship phase. You may be many, many levels of fucked up, but at least you’ve accepted that the way he treats you is terrible. 

You’re going to get out of this apartment, and you even have a vague plan. You’ve been saving up commission and donation money in a lockbox you hide in the back of your closet. At first, you thought that maybe you’d get a separate bank account, but Bro demands access to those.

And he keeps a watchful eye on your purchases whether you like it or not. On bad days, he has a tendency to steal if he’s in the mood to fuck with you. 

Plus, he has this totally bogus excuse that it’s somehow training you to be wary of fraud, but at least with hackers, the bank’ll compensate you for what was stolen. Bro just takes your shit and never gives it back. 

The fact that Bro has a three-digit salary is definitely part of why you're so enraged about the squalor he's forced you to live in. But that’s a whole other can of worms that you don’t want to open right now. 

At first, you had a job, too, but they let you go because Bro kept fucking you up enough that it hindered your ability to move around and function. So you worked around it and now you draw furry porn. It's lucrative.

And you’re hell-bent on leaving as soon as possible.

You think that maybe, the sibling thing is a sign. You might have to do some more snooping, or ask Bro some questions when he’s high off his ass, but you’re just too embarrassed, even after all these years, to ask for help from your friends.

Your hope is that if it’s a Strider, even one that didn’t grow up with you and your Bro, maybe you can figure something out with him. 

It’s stupid. Stupidly hopeful and optimistic. But you can’t go to your friends, period. That’s just something you’d never be able to justify to yourself, no matter how much they beg you to just fucking move in with them already. You won’t do that to them. You can't. Bro would never let you.

So if you could only find more out about this brother…

Thankfully, you get a chance a few weeks later, for better or for worse.

Bro comes home from a gig pretty late, stumbling around like a goddamn idiot. When you hear him crash into a wall all the way from your room, you know it’s going to be one of those nights. He only gets like this when he takes some bad shit. And usually, he's smart enough to avoid most of it. 

You go out to the living room to get a look at him (because even if he is a bastard you don’t want him overdosing when you’re here) and find him propped up against the wall, hands weakly pawing at it as he tries to lift himself back up.

He’s pretty pathetic like this, and for a moment, it makes you forget that he’s also the scariest guy in the entire world to you. Bro’s pupils are constricted to tiny dots, and his eyes are bloodshot. 

Knowing the people he hangs out with, he probably took something laced with fentanyl, and you briefly consider digging out the Narcan. But you think he’ll be fine. He’s gotten more fucked up than this before and lived.

The only thing you can do at this point is to take advantage of him when he gets like this. 

Maybe that’s wrong, but he’s done worse to you, so you really don’t give a shit anymore. The guilt isn't there like it used to be.

You squat next to Bro where he’s curled up on the floor. He looks at you wildly, like he’s the trapped one, like he’s the prey, not the fucking apex predator. It gives you a weird rush yet also disgusts you, because you know this is how you look when he hurts you, yet he sees you like this and does that shit anyway. Before you get spiral into the “I’m just like him” thoughts, you cut yourself off and get to the point.

“You never told me I had a brother.”

Bro blinks hard, trying to focus on you and failing. His eyes look off past you, and he slurs as he speaks. “I never tol’ you about him.”

You ignore the fact that he basically just repeated what you said. 

“What’s his name?”

“He’s a cocky bitch,” Bro’s head lolls to the side. “Never shoulda…”

You wait for a few seconds, wanting him to continue, but he remains dazed and unfocused. It’s kind of weird to see him like this sometimes. It’s so different than he usually is, it’s almost like you can see a normal human somewhere deep, deep down. 

“That’s not what I asked,” you say. And man, wouldn’t it be cool if you could talk back like this on normal days? Your tone is definitely harsher than you’re ever allowed in this household, and it feels pretty good. “I asked what his name was.”

“Dirk,” Bro says, still staring past you. “Shoulda made that bitch have an abortion when I had the cha—chance.”

He starts to heave, so you flashstep and grab him a bucket, placing it a few feet out of his reach. If he throws up on himself, oh well, you tried. You’re not completely heartless though, he can definitely crawl to it if he needs to. You got the info you needed so you leave him to it. He won’t remember this anyway, so you should be good.

You have a lot of searching to do.

By the time you reach your room, you realize you didn’t ask for a last name, but you kind of don’t want to engage with Bro more than you have to, so you resolve to sleuth it out yourself.

Google exists, right? 

Turns out it’s harder than you thought it’d be. You spend hours that night trying to find a Dirk Strider until you realize that he probably doesn’t use that last name. Eventually, you manage to narrow it down to a few dozen Dirks in Texas.

Assuming he still lives here, that is.

Now that you know that Bro isn’t actually fucking with you though, you’re filled with a newfound determination to make that connection. It’s like you’re starved for it, and maybe you are. 

Before you go to bed, you send out short, vaguely cryptic messages to whatever contacts you can find for them. It’s desperate and kind of stupid considering that you’ll be screwed if Bro finds out, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You’ve been under his roof so long at this point that you’re not sure he can really fuck you up more than he already has.

By the time you wake up the next morning, Bro is gone again and you haven’t gotten any replies. The latter doesn’t shock you, but you are a bit surprised that Bro’s even able to function after his bender of a night.

Oh well. Maybe you’ll take the time to see if you can scrounge up enough money for some nonperishables. While you’re at it, you might look for some cash to put into your Getting Out savings jar, too.

You try to avoid the cameras in the kitchen and in the hallway and reach around the cushions. _Fuck yes_. You find a twenty that’s suspiciously tacky, but you pocket it anyway just as your phone vibrates.

At first, you assume it’s John, but when you open the notification your heart stops.

Because one of the Dirks you emailed actually emailed you back.

Dave, 

Well, this was a surprise. I didn’t know that he had another kid. I don’t know why that surprises me in the first place, actually, given his track record of being an absolute and total jackass. Sorry if that’s laying it on a little thick, I don’t know how you feel about the guy, but I obviously have my opinions about him. 

In your email you said that he never told you I existed, and that you saw him acknowledge that he was trying to ignore my attempts to reach him over Pesterchum. I’d rather not get into anything here, but if you’d like to meet up and chat about our situation, I’d be more than happy to. 

Message me on Pesterchum @timaeusTestified and we can set something up. 

-Dirk

And yeah, the fact that this guy also seems to hate Bro’s guts puts you into motion instantly. Your throat feels dangerously tight. It almost seems like this isn’t real, and for a second, you worry that it isn’t. 

But you’ve never had a sibling for real, one that understood.

So you may lose your cool a bit and fire off a message pretty quickly. But to your surprise, he answers back just as fast.

TG: hey this is dave 

TG: id so be down to set something up sometime btw 

TG: are you still in houston 

TT: Close enough to Houston that I can drive out to meet you somewhere. In public, preferably. 

TT: Not that I don’t believe you, but I don’t completely _believe_ you yet. 

TT: Because of recent… events I have reason to suspect foul play 

TG: thats fine im actually kind of skeptical too ngl 

TG: so meeting in public actually sounds perfect 

TT: Great. I’ll send you an address. Tomorrow around one sound good? I know it’s short notice but the sooner the better. 

TG: no no thats perfect 

TG: not like i have a life rn or anything lol 

TT: And wipe this chat after you get the address. You should probably delete our emails, too. 

TT: It might seem like overkill, but I get the feeling that the precaution is worth it. 

TT: If my impression of the dude is even remotely on point, that is. 

TT: And I have a suspicion that I'm right. 

TG: yeah 

TG: probably 

TG: will do though 

TG: see you tomorrow 

TT: See you.

You copy down the address Dirk sends you and delete the chat, making sure to remember his handle as you trash the emails too. He’s right about needing to keep this a secret. Even though you’re excited, some anxiety creeps in on you, thinking of what Bro would do if he found out.

Probably kick your ass so fucking hard. 

Before you can think too much about the danger you’re putting yourself in by trying to do this, you head back into your room to put the money you found in your stash. At least when Bro’s fucked up, he drops shit everywhere. Like the tip money in his pockets.

You get some non-perishable foods from the store before Bro gets back and use them to further hide your money stash. By the time he’s home, you’re about as strung out as you expected you’d be and really, really need to burn off all this anxious energy.

Even though he doesn’t fuck with you or anything, you can’t help but feel like he knows what you’re planning somehow. He raised you to believe that you could never hide anything from him, you guess, and that lesson definitely stuck. 

God, you’re so nervous about it you could puke. But that’d _definitely_ signal that something was up, so you shove it all down as far as it’ll go. 

Fuck, what if Dirk doesn’t even like you? What if he isn’t who he says he is? What if he takes one look at your scrawny, scruffy ass and decides you’re not worth it? The doubt is almost enough to make you call it off completely.

At least with Bro, you know what kind of treatment to expect, you know where you stand with him.

But you’re sick of it. You’re sick of 20 years of abuse and fear. 

Isn’t it time?

Before you can overthink it any more than you already have, you go to sleep, restless and anxious about Bro, Dirk, and your own fucking self, above all else. Sleep comes, but not soon enough. 

X

Bro is still in the apartment when you get up to leave.

He asks you where you think you’re going, and for a second, you’re afraid that he won’t let you leave. But when you tell him that you’re going to go fuck around at the skatepark for a while, he doesn’t question you any further, and you slip out before he can tell how suspicious you’re being.

You ride to the bus stop with your heart in your throat, suddenly feeling that maybe this isn’t the best idea. The doubts you had last night resurface as you wait for your stop, and you think you annoy the lady next to you with how hard you’re bouncing your leg. 

By the time you get off the bus and find where you’re supposed to be meeting Dirk, it’s 12:59, and you stand out in front of the coffee shop like a total idiot until the clock hits 1:00 before you make yourself go inside.

You thought that maybe it’d be hard to spot him, but the moment you walk in, you see a blond wearing Bro’s style of shades. You freeze. And it takes conscious effort to drag your feet over to where he’s sitting.

Dirk looks up from whatever he’s typing on his phone. He doesn’t smile, which doesn’t help your nerves much, but you manage to not freak out, and that’s a win in and of itself. 

“Uh. Hey.”

Wow. Good first impression, Dave. 

“Sup,” Dirk sticks his hand out, and you shake it. “Dave, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” You sound a little breathless. It’s probably a reasonable reaction because you didn’t think he’d look… “Sorry, you just look exactly like him.”

“Yep, kind of unfortunate, isn’t it? First I get his name, then I get literally everything else.” Dirk touches his dumb anime shades. “Down to the same gimmicky bullshit. But I like ‘em too much to part with them, so he’s just going to have to deal with the younger, better version of him running around Texas being altogether superior, down to the last atom.”

“Hah. Yeah. How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-two. You?”

“Twenty.” 

You lapse into silence for a few moments, so you look at your hands, hoping that he can’t see how much you’re shaking. 

“Fuck. Sorry. This is just really weird,” you say, trying to not let the conversation die before it’s even gotten started. “I kind of found out that you existed by accident, Bro probably doesn’t want me to know about you. I mean I mentioned that in my email, but it's still a shock I guess.”

Dirk snorts. “Figures. You know, he fucked my mom. Even told her they’d get married. Then he ran the moment she got pregnant. Kind of a dick move, if you ask me.”

“He always told me that he only took care of me because my mom didn’t want me. Kinda fucked.” It’s like once you start, you can’t stop. You’ve never been able to talk to someone about Bro, someone who didn’t already know you, and your life, and it feels like you’re pouring your heart out. “You know, Bro has this weird thing where we both mutually act like he’s my older brother and not my dad? For as much as he goes on and on about doing shit you don’t want to do, sucking it up like a man, he sure knows how to shirk when it comes to his own responsibilities.”

You twiddle with your fingers. When Dirk doesn’t respond, you cross your arms over your chest and start to gently scratch at your upper arms, needing to keep yourself occupied so you don’t flip out.

“Sorry, that was a lot of dumping.” You say, hating yourself when your head twitches from the excess anxiety you’re bottling up.

“Nah,” he says, face still weirdly blank. “You don’t have to be sorry, dude. Look, I’m glad you contacted me. Having a younger half-bro is cool—never had one of those—and if you’re still in that place, what’s going down next might be a hell of a lot of your business.”

Suddenly, Dirk looks a lot more serious, and angry, and you can finally feel yourself relax a bit now that he doesn’t look so impassive. 

“What’s going down next?”

“Well,” Dirk glances around and leans forward, closer to you. “Obviously I hate our dad. He ruined my mom’s life, left her without any money. She worked multiple jobs all throughout my childhood and it literally killed her. Maybe it’s petty, but I have something to settle with him, so I don’t really care about how it seems.”

“Jesus fuck, that’s terrible,” you can’t even imagine. For some reason, the knowledge that he ruined this random woman’s life makes you angrier than any of the things he did to you. You should unpack that with a therapist one day, you’re sure. At least, that's what Rose would say.

“Yeah, it kind of is. So I did some snooping to see what I could find about him. I kind of make a living off of coding, and I may have a slightly less-than-legal side-hustle. So once I was good enough to hack into his stupid system, I downloaded everything I could find.”

You feel your body freeze over. If everything he could find was even just a drop in the ocean of Bro’s content, that’d be…

Dirk takes off his anime shades and looks you in the eyes. The sympathy there burns more than you'd ever admit. “I want him to be put away for life. I want him to fucking _rot_ in a cell until the day he dies. And I have everything I need to incriminate him.”

“That’s…” Your mouth is dry. Isn’t that funny? You should’ve gotten a drink or something when you walked in. Dirk got a drink, that was smart, you wish you’d—okay, stop right there. You press pause on your panic button.

Isn’t this everything you’ve ever wanted? To escape? To put Bro somewhere where he could never touch you? You’d fantasize about slipping his shit to the police so many times, but you were always convinced he would weasel out of it, then fuck you up for snitching. 

When you find your voice again, it comes out unbearably small. “Are you sure it’d work, though? He’s kind of. Slippery.”

Dirk’s nod is confident. “There’s no way he can get out of this one. There was some pretty disgusting shit encrypted on his servers.”

You know what he’s referring to. Probably. It could be the drugs, but it could also be a bunch of other things. Videos that you’d rather not think about, because you’re not sure what exactly he’s done. You don’t think it’d be good for you to know what he's recorded. 

“Okay. Alright,” shaky breath out. Come on, Dave, keep it together. “Sorry, this is a lot more than I was expecting today. Kinda thought we’d just fist-bump, say hey, talk about hobbies and career plans and all that, then go our separate ways. I didn’t think there’s even be a chance that, man, I don’t know—” 

You force yourself to stop rambling, realizing that you apologized. Again. Fuck, that’s a habit you’ve got to curb. At least Dirk doesn’t look fed up with you yet.

Actually, he cracks a small smile at you. “We can totally fist-bump, dude. That isn’t even remotely off the table. For what it’s worth, we can always talk more about hobbies and career plans and shit. If anything, I’m sorry. That was a lot to unload on you at once, but I wanted to be upfront about my intentions and shit.”

“I appreciate it. Like, more than I can even express. I was kind of worried you’d be like him.” Dirk starts to tense, so you rush to deescalate. “But you’re not, you’ve got his hair and shades and eyes and whatever, but you don’t seem like an emotionless asshole. So it’s all good.”

“Sick. Emotions: we love them.” 

You huff out a laugh. He says it in a deadpan, but he's still smiling in that wry way, with only one corner upturned, and it settles you even further to hear him joke about it.

“One thing, though. Why’d you try contacting him? That’s how I found out about you; he was telling his friend that you were tryin’ to contact him.”

“Oh. It was less of me trying to contact him, more of me threatening him.” Dirk taps his phone. “That’s why I wanted to be stealth about meeting you. He’s probably paranoid as fuck about the whole police thing, and I wanted to have him stressed out as long as possible before I got him locked up. Now that I know you're a real person and not some trap he put down to stop me, I can say this confidently: I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“Dude, that’s fuckin' evil, I love it." Suddenly, a lot of Bro's behavior recently makes sense. "Now that you mention it, he’s been super keyed up lately, getting higher than he usually does, leaving the house more, all that.”

“He probably realizes that he’s absolutely fucked.” Dirk agrees, nodding sagely before he goes back to some semblance of seriousness. “But I had something else I needed to talk to you about.”

“Shoot.”

“Maybe it’s too much too soon, but I thought I’d offer anyway. Would you want to move in with me? At least until you find another place to stay? You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like though, of course."

The anxiety is back, even though a sick, desperate part of yourself hoped that he’d offer this to you. Again, there’s the part of your brain that pleads, willing you to shut down the hope building up in your chest. You know you’ll just be disappointed if you let yourself dream of these things, but this isn’t a dream, is it? He’s really offering it to you. 

Even though you want to say yes, you really do (and it’s kind of your only option) you want to make sure he’s not just offering to be nice while secretly hoping you’ll reject him. “Dude, I can’t ask that of you. That’s kind of a big deal, and I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re my little brother, there’s literally no way you could be an inconvenience.”

“Yeah, well, I stay up super late—”

“I do too. Sleep isn’t part of my vocab.” 

“I have some pretty cursed food habits—”

“I like pineapple on pizza, man, there’s no way you’re worse than me.”

“But.” You force it out. He has to understand that you’re kind of a fucking mess. “I have a lot of issues. I might freak out a lot.”

Dirk counters that one too. “And I lived most of my life alone, working on robots while I learned how to illegally hack into my dad’s servers. Just so I could get revenge. I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m kind of a wreck, too.”

He’s got you there.

“If you’re sure it wouldn’t be an inconvenience,” you acquiesce, trying to keep a smile off your face. It doesn’t work; you’re kind of happy. Really fucking happy. You physically can’t keep yourself from smiling. 

“I’m probably the bigger inconvenience here,” Dirk admits, holding up his fist. “Brothers?”

You meet it, and the BUMP is obtained. “Brothers.”

You start to reach for your skateboard under the table. It’s been nice talking to Dirk, but looking at the time, you know that you have to get back home soon. “I should probably get back before Bro gets suspicious though. He gets weird if I’m gone for too long. Even though he hates me being near him. Dunno how that works, but you know how it is.”

“Wait.”

You stop getting up, and some weird part of you is convinced that he’s about to take back everything he said, even though you logically know that he won’t. Instead, you force yourself to wait and hear him out.

“Want to move in with me tonight?” 

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. We don’t even have to go back to his place. Once the police grab him, we can get everything you need for real.”

“I…” The idea makes you really, really fucking anxious. “What if he comes after us?”

“He won’t. He _can’t_.”

“But he has… Ways.”

“Listen,” Dirk says, not unkindly. “I have security systems coming out of my ass. He can’t get within a mile of my place without me knowing about it, alright? We’ll be okay. He won’t know where you are if you don’t tell him.”

It feels too easy. 

When you imagined leaving, you pictured a fight. You pictured Bro kicking your ass, stealing your meager savings, telling you that Dirk wouldn’t want you, would never want you, because you’re fucked up and gay and all these other things he’d always say when he had you pinned to the roof. You never imagined just... Leaving. You never, not in a million years, thought you'd get out without some big conflict. 

It feels too fucking easy. 

Dirk’s waiting for an answer though, and maybe it’s okay for you to want things, even if they seem convenient. Maybe you should trust that the rug won’t be pulled out from under you for once. That you don’t have to be beaten within an inch of your life for you to earn the right to leave.

“That’d be… Nice.”

“Sick,” Dirk smiles and he takes a deep breath. “That’s actually relieving as fuck, bro. I really didn’t want you to go back there.”

“I lasted twenty years, what’s one more night?” It’s pretty much compulsive at this point, this need to brush off how serious your situation really is. Dirk doesn’t let you dodge away from the truth, though. He cuts through that shit fast. 

“Even one more night is one night too many. You’re already two decades past how long you should’ve had to deal with him.”

“I guess,” you say, trying to not fidget more. But in a way, hearing him say that it _is_ serious, that you’re not just dramatic, has you unwinding your arms from around yourself. You don’t need to freak out, he’s got your back. You have an older brother, and he’s got your back.

“Let’s get going then.”

Turns out, Dirk’s ride is actually really, _really_ nice. Nothing like Bro’s beat-up truck. When you get in, you feel like you shouldn’t even be touching your grimy body to the smooth, plush leather seats.

“How'd you afford this dude?”

“I told you, side-hustle. Slightly less-than-legal.”

His apartment is just as nice, and he wasn’t lying about the security. Just seeing the gates and all the little code boxes makes you feel infinitely better, even if it _is_ just security theater. By the time you're inside, it’s getting dark, and Bro is starting to message you, asking you where you are.

“Sorry for the mess,” Dirk says, kicking some spare parts out of the walkway to the living room.

“Hey, it’s better than Bro’s,” you point out. “See? I can even move my foot without getting it lodged in some gross puppet ass.” You even punctuate that thought with a dramatic, clean step forward, and relish in the chuckle you get in response. 

As you step into the living room, you glance from wall to wall to get a feel for what Dirk’s like. The posters are a little weird, and it’s a little messy, but for the most part, it’s remarkably normal. It’s almost off-putting to see how weaponless it is, and as you step further in, you remind yourself that you probably don’t even need to check for traps.

It’s… Weird.

Not bad, though. Not a bad weird at all. But it’ll take some getting used to, that’s for sure. 

Dirk’s watching you for your reaction, but you’re not sure how you want to react in the first place. You’re relieved, but kind of freaked out. Maybe overwhelmed is the word you’re looking for here.

“Here, you can have the guest bedroom.” 

Dirk shows you where you’ll be sleeping and points you over to the bathroom. He grabs you some of his clothes, an extra toothbrush, and leaves you be, obviously trying to give you space to process everything. 

“I have some commissions to work on, but let me know if you need anything. I’ll probably be awake for a long ass time. Oh, also, there’s some leftover Chinese in the fridge. I’m kind of shit at taking care of myself, so that’s all I have right now."

You tell him that it’s fine and he excuses himself to go work. The moment the door shuts, you can tell you’re about three seconds from flipping out. Bro’s blowing up your phone. There’s no way this’ll end up being okay. It's fated to blow up in your face because that's how this shit always ends. In dramatic conflict. With you bleeding your ass off in the bathroom alone while you try to piece yourself back together again. 

He's in your head, and you just _know_ what he'd tell you if he were here. 

_Can’t even protect yourself. You think you can expect Dirk to take care of you, you fucking pussy? You know the world don’t work like that. You know it don’t. I taught you that, didn’t I? What, did you just ignore every fuckin' thing I tried telling you?_

Maybe you psyched yourself up for so long imagining that you’d get hurt trying to leave that you were never prepared for whatever THIS is. This calm, convenient, easy-ass escape. There has to be a catch. Bro’s going to find a way in and beat your ass, he’s going to hurt Dirk, and it’ll all be your fault. Probably. Is that dramatic? You think that might be a little dramatic.

You turn your phone off when it buzzes again and toss it across the bed. Gripping your head and willing yourself to calm down ends up being all that you can do while you wait for the panic to pass. 

After an hour or two of mind-numbing fear, you manage to get yourself leftovers, but your ability to function stops there. After eating, you say goodnight to Dirk even though it’s only 8 o’clock and lay in the dark, too afraid to check your phone and too afraid to sleep, just in case Bro somehow finds his way inside.

The window may be locked, and this place may be guarded like it’s Alcatraz, but you’re still scared shitless. When Dirk drops something heavy in the other room, you nearly jump out of your skin, convinced that it’s Bro trying to ram down the door or something ridiculous like that.

It’s not happening. You’re fine. Dirk is confident about what’s about to go down, and you need to trust in that. Otherwise, you’ll go insane thinking about everything that could go wrong. It’ll be fine.

You repeat that over and over again to yourself, giving up on your futile quest for sleep. It’s a bit past 2 in the morning, but you can still hear Dirk tinkering out at his station so you figure some company might ease your nerves.

And he seems happy to see you when you settle down on the couch. Which is weird. The fact that he looks like Bro, but doesn't have that same towering, freaky statue. Dirk isn’t a twig by any means, but he just doesn’t have the same hulking frame that Bro has. Or the freaky face. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Nope. Have you taken a single break since you started earlier, dude?”

Dirk’s silence is telling. He screws a metal panel to whatever he’s working on and you stand to heat him up a plate of leftovers. Man, opening up a regular fridge sure is a treat. You're never taking advantage of it again. Nope.

“I’ll heat you up something. Maybe you should take a minute?”

He leans back in his swivel chair and groans when his back cracks. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Hey, did you need a phone charger? I didn’t think to ask, but it must be dead by now, huh.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t know. I turned it off when I went to bed.”

Even though you can’t see Dirk looking at you as you dig through the fridge, you can feel his calculating eyes watching you. Thinking. Putting pieces together.

“Did he message you?”

Now, it’s your silence that’s telling. Dirk’s footsteps come closer and you nearly drop everything in your hands when he rests a hand on your shoulder, surprised at the tenderness behind the gesture. 

Looking down, you realize that you’re shaking. 

“Hey…” Dirk’s voice goes all soft and gentle, like you’re some wild animal, and maybe that’s what you are right now. You were definitely raised like one for most of your life. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t fuck with you. Can I open your phone and block him for you?”

At first, you want to tell him no. There’s no way that what Bro sent you was pleasant. But you remind yourself that Dirk already knows what goes on, that he won’t be shocked, he’s seen the worst of the worst, and he _knows_ , so you nod. He disappears and you focus on pulling yourself together.

It’d be cool if you could stop feeling like you’re about to pass out. It’d be real fucking cool right about now. 

Before you know it, Dirk is back and guiding you to the couch by the arm. He slips your phone into your lap and you grab it, grateful for the clutch but somehow still terrified that when you open it, you’ll find Bro’s messages, which never fail to escalate your anxiety even more.

“I blocked him on everything,” Dirk reassures you, as if sensing your hesitation. “Also made sure to ban his IP address.” His hand returns back to your shoulder, and you feel so out of your element that you think you could cry.

And you do. 

Even though you only allow a few tears to leak out before you shut that shit down, you’re still disappointed that you managed to cry in front of your brother within the first 24 hours of knowing him. Couldn't even make it a full day without leaking your gross, emo-liquids everywhere. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though he does hover awkwardly, obviously not knowing how exactly to help you. You’re not sure you have answers for him, but you slowly lean into his side, realizing that you kind of want to be comforted, you guess. A part of you is worried that he'll decide he doesn’t want you touching him when you’re acting all weak. But he lets you and settles his arm around your shoulder.

It gets another tear out of you, and you sniff, frustrated with yourself.

“I already forwarded everything to the police,” Dirk says, and there goes another tear. You never thought it would be this easy, not in a million years.

“I…” 

There’s a lot you want to say. Thank you is at the top of the list, but you don’t know how you can thank him enough. Plenty of people have offered to get you out of your living situation with Bro, but no one seems to get it like Dirk does. None of your friends have _seen_ what kind of shit Bro does, or even heard much about it. 

There was always something holding you back from asking for help, some line you couldn’t cross. They weren’t involved like this; they weren’t personally affected.

But Dirk gets it. Not completely, but enough for it to matter. Enough for you to let him help you. 

He’s patient when you can’t find the right words to say. What _do_ you want to say? You scrap the thank you, remembering that he’s doing this for himself, too. He probably doesn’t want to hear it, anyway.

Once Bro is arrested, you’ll be getting your stuff. Maybe you’ll even start up school again. Maybe you’ll get a job. The possibilities are literally endless, and your newfound freedom is almost too abstract to imagine.

You let your head fall to his shoulder and take the comfort he gives you, some tension draining from your body. 

After a while, you know what you want to say. Not sorry, not thank you. He doesn’t want to hear it, and you don’t want to say it. 

Things are finally changing

 

“I’m glad I finally get to know you, dude.”

**Author's Note:**

> consider leaving a comment if you liked it! i know numbers arent the most important thing, but they help with motivation!


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